The Demon of Light (ENG)
by RaiderGirlx
Summary: I don't know where this story is going yet. I hope it will evolve into a whole Fanfic, if not then I guess I'll make it a little collection of drabbles. One way or the other, I really enjoy writing so I hope you'll like it. (This story was originally written in german, I translated it into english for the fun of it and to make it available for more people)


The idea came to me about 2am and I worked on this until 5am. I don't quite know where this is going yet, after all it's not easy to think up something original for a continuation of AoD but I'd still like to try.

Constructive critiques are always welcome, I'd be very happy to receive some.

By the way, the original was written in german which is one of my native languages. But since I adore the english language I just couldn't resist translating my work. (Sometimes I feel like I was born in the wrong country...)

Anyway, without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

„He's unconscious, do something!"

„Press here, firmly! I almost got it, do not let go!"

„God damn it! Go!"

I felt panic crawling up inside of me, but I wouldn't allow it to come to the surface. Pure adrenaline rushed through my veins while I was up to the elbow inside the young man's belly. Everything was so full of his blood I couldn't even tell anymore were my arms stopped and his belly began. I took a deep breath and concentrated on my task. Press firmly. _The guy's a doctor_ , I thought to myself, _he knows what he's doing. Don't you dare bail on me and die, you bastard._

In that moment I felt the anger boiling up in my belly. How could I have left him alone with that beast. So many things had gone wrong, it wasn't supposed to end like this.

An insistent beeping sound suddenly pulled me out of my thoughts. It was the ECG showing me a straight line, as if it was mocking me and my efforts to keep the American alive. I watched paralyzed as the the czech doctor initiated cardiac massage. Even though he knew exactly what to do he seemed so clumsy, so insecure. Again rage rose within me and. I pulled one arm out of the man, clenched my fist and punched his torso with all the strenght my exhausted body had left to offer.

„Damn it, Kurtis!", I yelled at the stock-still body and punched his torso again.

„You better stay alive!", blood splattered across my face but you wouldn't even notice among all the bruises, dirt and sweat of the last few days. One last time I hit Kurtis' torso when I saw the line of the ECG showing little regular curves again.

„Asshole..." I muttered in relieve and put my hand back into the open wound. The czech doctor who's lab coat had once been as white as snow looked at me with his mouth open in disbelieve.

„What on earth are you waiting for?!" I snapped at him to remind him of the bleeding wound in front of us.

„Y-Yes, right..." he stuttered and reached for the long forceps protruding from Kurtis' open belly. He pulled it out, gently as if it was made from the finest crystal glas, holding something unidentifiable. It gave the impression of a sting, but way out of proportion.

„Alright, that's it", the doctor gulped, and with a loud clanger he let the forceps fall into a steele container. I watched him cleanse the wound with little sponges and compresses.

„You can let go now.", he said with a calm voice, holding up a needle and a thread.

I pulled my hands out of the American, slowly this time, trying not to cause any more damage. His blood dripping from my fingers I turned away from the operating table and leaned on the sink nearby. I turned on the water, it was ice cold but I didn't mind. I washed away the blood and felt as if I was washing a part of my worries away too. It was the first time in days that I had a chance for a little bit of hygiene, it was a relief. My lips hurt when I tried to wash away the encrusted blood and I noticed my hands were shaking badly. Was it the cold water, or the stresses and strains of the last few days, I couldn't tell anymore.

As I glanced into the mirror and saw a woman looking at me. She looked...exhausted and depleted. Single strains of hair sticked to her dirty, bruised face. Nevertheless, a weak smile decorated her face and her hazel eyes showed a flame of determination.

 _Tough girl,_ I thought.

When I got back to the operating table there was nothing left of the horrific wound, only a million neat stichtes. I pulled up a chair and sat down. Untill this very moment I hadn't even realized how bad my legs hurt. I looked at Kurtis, he was still unconscious but the ECG kept moving in regular ups and downs.

„Thank you.", I said to the czech doctor, absent with my thoughts. He nodded, not able to bring out a word anymore. I almost felt bad for holding my 9mm up against his head just a few hours ago.

I took a long, deep breath. _Thank you._


End file.
